Rainy day

My friend calls me. She reminds me of the column. I glance out the window. It is showering and thundering. Drops of rain fall like a hail storm. People stumble, clinging onto their umbrellas. Wind claws at their clothes. They are already soaked through but are still clinging on for dear life. A world in a turmoil. It resembles my mood.

Thoughts unfurl as I watch the silver drops being scattered from the sky. It is as if thousands of transparent beads have broken free from a necklace and descended onto the ground.

Some years ago I had an ayah. She was afraid of storms. She said that the Gods are angry with the mortals and this is a sign of expressing their rage. They would send thunderbolts to vanquish some people. Later I read in a book that the rumble of thunder was once believed to be Gods bowling. The metal ball would roll across heaven's wooden floor. Once all the pins have been struck there is a thunderclap.

Rain is known as the water of life. It takes many forms from a gentle sprinkle to a torrid downpour and flood - life giving on one angle and death dealing on the other. Rain drops can symbolize heaven's tears. Therefore rain is a token of sorrow, anger, cleansing, forgiveness and more. This is not a visual symbol for small griefs but a heart wrenching loss. That is why most filmmakers end a tragic scene with rain breaking out and artists paint rain scenery when they are plunged into depression.

I still remember that day. It was a day of loss and pain. Even the sky broke into tears and the wind howled.

My head was throbbing and my eyes were puffy and bloodshot. I listened to your voice at the other end of the line.

There was nothing else to say. We could not change nature or undo what had been done.

It was a day of bittersweet memories. A day that still brings tears to my eyes. I remember you when it rains for you had a habit of forgetting to take an umbrella to office. You never did use an umbrella and I once remember I even chucked away mine to walk with you in the hot sun. Then the rainy season came. The rain was different then. It was much more gentle. It fell stroking your hair and brushing your cheeks. You don't know this but knowing you I would make a silent request from the rain God to make the rain mild till you are safely indoors. Most of the time Zeus listened to me.

You used to send me SMSs saying that you are stranded somewhere without an umbrella or arrived in office, drenched. You knew what kind of effect those words had on me. Had I been nearby I would have crossed the street to get to you. Had we been together we would have strolled out in the rain.

You always called me a 'sunny' person. You said that the rain does not effect me because I am full of warmth. But the rain holds many memories for me. When the first drop of rain falls from the sky, I remember you. I still make the same request from Zeus. But now he hardly listens to me. The shower fell last night at the time you were suppose to return home from office.

I wonder if similar thoughts ever go through your head. I wonder if the rain ever reminds you of me. But if you ever feel lonely, sad or disheartened, save memories of me for a rainy day.

Shehara

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